3 January full moons have past since your soul separated from your body.
The moon, full and bright shined love down through the window of my parents bedroom onto my fathers hospital bed.
Morphine drip, oxygen pump, the murmur of the air mattress
“John, who are you talking too?
"oh, my mother and father are here wanting me to go with them but I told them I wanted one last night with my wife, so come lay down beside me.
So, like so many other nights, she held her husband.
Once a statuesque Marine, his body withered to an infant child. It was not his mind stopping the fight but his body.
For one last night, they gazed at the full moon, their symbol of love to each other, reminiscing about their first date, the birth of their children, and without saying it, would still choose each other when Multiple Sclerosis chose them.
They always demonstrated their love by how they looked deeply into each others eyes, soulmates.
For one last night, they starred into each others eyes, said, "I love you," he gave her one last peck on the check like he had done for so many years and nights before.
A teardrop would fall knowing this was it.
A life cycle completed.
His soul separated from his body under the full moon.
In the morning she awoke, full of breath; his, shallow and low; the journey had begun.
How do you let of of your soulmate? With one last touch?
For this night was a gift, a gift of the moment for soulmates.